Fate's Bet: My Unwanted Tycoon Husband

A Wife's Bitter Reckoning

My husband, Bennett, and I were New York's golden couple. But our perfect marriage was a lie, childless because of a rare genetic condition he claimed would kill any woman who carried his baby. When his dying father demanded an heir, Bennett proposed a solution: a surrogate. The woman he chose, Aria, was a younger, more vibrant version of me. Suddenly, Bennett was always busy, supporting her through "difficult IVF cycles." He missed my birthday. He forgot our anniversary. I tried to believe him, until I overheard him at a party. He confessed to his friends that his love for me was a "deep connection," but with Aria, it was "fire" and "exhilarating." He was planning a secret wedding with her in Lake Como, at the same villa he'd promised me for our anniversary. He was giving her a wedding, a family, a life—all the things he denied me, using a lie about a deadly genetic condition as his excuse. The betrayal was so complete it felt like a physical shock. When he came home that night, lying about a business trip, I smiled and played the part of the loving wife. He didn't know I'd heard everything. He didn't know that while he was planning his new life, I was already planning my escape. And he certainly didn't know I had just made a call to a service that specialized in one thing: making people disappear.

Seven Years of Lies, My Vengeful Return

For seven years, I worked as a crime scene cleaner, scrubbing away death to save my son' s life. I finally earned the $250,000 for the experimental treatment that would cure his rare genetic disorder. But when I arrived at the hospital, I overheard my boyfriend, Brad, talking. It wasn't about a cure. It was a "social experiment," a seven-year test to prove I wasn't a gold digger. My son was never sick. My best friend was in on it, laughing. Then I heard my son' s voice. "I don't want smelly Mommy to come back. I want Aunt Jaime. She smells like cookies." They humiliated me at his school, calling me a mentally unstable cleaning lady. My son pointed at me and told everyone he didn't know me, while the man I loved dragged me away, accusing me of being a disgrace. My love wasn't love; it was data. My sacrifice wasn't a sacrifice; it was a performance. They had turned my own child against me for their sick game. They thought they were testing a poor, simple cleaner. They didn't know he was Bradford Yates, heir to a billion-dollar dynasty. And they had no idea I was Alyssa Dyer of the Dalton family. I picked up the phone and called my brother. "I'm coming home."

Reborn: A Wife's Vengeful Return

The antiseptic smell of the hospital and the relentless rain were the last things I remembered from my past life. That' s where it ended-my body hollowed by grief, my spirit eroded by depression after losing my baby in a hurricane. But on my deathbed, a final, cruel truth echoed from outside my room: my husband, Mark, and his childhood sweetheart, Lisa, conspired to destroy me. They admitted using their own daughter, Chloe, as bait in the storm, knowing my "bleeding heart" would save her, ensuring I' d miscarry and become a "barren mule." They rejoiced in how I' d raised Chloe, their daughter, completely oblivious to their monstrous scheme. I died with their laughter ringing in my ears, my last breath a ragged gasp of pure, undiluted hatred. Then, I gasped again, a deep, full breath. My eyes snapped open. I wasn' t dying. I was in my living room, the wind howling, a news anchor warning of a Category 8 hurricane. My hand flew to my stomach-a faint, familiar warmth. My baby was still there. I was still pregnant. I was alive, reborn to the day it all began. The trap was being set again. I knew who was out there, waiting to be "saved." My nine-year-old son, Ethan, tugged my sleeve, pointing with manufactured fear. "Mom, look! There's a little girl out there! In the water! She's going to drown!"

The Girl He Left Behind: Now a Billionaire's Wife

The smell of fresh paint filled our new home, the one Andrew and I had planned for months. This was it, my American dream, built with my college sweetheart of five years. Then the doorbell rang. It wasn't the pizza. It was Maria, heavily pregnant, saying Andrew was her baby's "private sperm donor" and they needed to discuss baby shower plans. My fiance, the man I shared everything with, calmly explained he was just "being supportive" to a "platonic friend." My world shattered as everyone, even my own mother, dismissed my pain, telling me to ignore this "technicality" for appearances. They said I was jealous, old-fashioned, dramatic. I learned he bought Maria' s baby expensive nursery items, and when I gave him an ultimatum, he left me for her "panic attack," calling me heartless. How could he do this? How could everyone think I was the crazy one? Desperate, I sent a single word to a number I'd ignored for years, a high school bad boy who' d once had a crush on me: "Now." He booked his flight without hesitation.

No Second Chance For Us

For five years, I was tech billionaire Alden Maxwell' s secret. A pretty accessory on his arm, a deal I made to save my father' s life. I played my part, quietly planning my escape for the day our contract ended. But then his first love, Amanda, came back. At a lavish auction, he spent ten million dollars to outbid me for my own mother' s heirloom bangle, only to place it on Amanda' s wrist, calling it a "token of his undying affection." Later, he told me I was just practice. A "little bird" he could use to learn how to be gentle before he went back to his true love. That' s when the last of my foolish hope died. I was never a person to him, just a transaction he could buy and discard. So I disappeared. I took a five-year, off-grid research position and cut all ties. When he finally tracked me down, begging me to name my price, I faced him through the sterile glass of the facility and gave him my final answer. "We' re done."

From Gilded Cage To Unchained Queen

To save my dying father, I made a deal with the billionaire Christopher Kirkland. I became his secret, a bird in a gilded cage he paraded around when it suited him. But I was just a pawn in his twisted game to win back his ex-girlfriend. He proved it when he publicly outbid me for my own mother's heirloom necklace, only to gift it to her right in front of me. Then he threw me out of the penthouse. My few cherished belongings-my books, a photo of my parents-were tossed out. "Chaney doesn't like clutter," he told me, erasing my entire existence for her. A text on his phone confirmed the brutal truth. "Our little game is working perfectly," she'd written. "She's completely fooled." Years later, after she betrayed him and his empire nearly crumbled, he came back begging. He thought he could buy my forgiveness. He was about to learn that my freedom had no price tag.

Too Late For Regret: The Genius Heiress Who Shines

Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."

Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him

I died on a Tuesday. It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father. I was twenty years old. He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant. He chose her. He always chose her. And then, I woke up. Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for. This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice. He didn't know he was talking to a ghost. He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal. He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder. That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry. She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts. So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie. I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane. But I will not be a victim. This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter. This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain.

Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell

"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."

Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband!

I just got my billionaire husband to sign our divorce papers. He thinks it's another business document. Our marriage was a business transaction. I was his secretary by day, his invisible wife by night. He got a CEO title and a rebellion against his mother; I got the money to save mine. The only rule? Don't fall in love. I broke it. He didn't. So I'm cashing out. Thirty days from now, I'm gone. But now he's noticing me. Touching me. Claiming me. The same man who flaunts his mistresses is suddenly burning down a nightclub because another man insulted me. He says he'll never let me go. But he has no idea I'm already halfway out the door. How far will a billionaire go to keep a wife he never wanted until she tried to leave?

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

The Queen Returns: Pampered By Her Three Powerhouse Brothers

After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."